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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Wednesday, April 01, 2015

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Oops. Reality.

I've lied to my pups. Not malicious lying, simply one of convenience. The squirrel on the stick is not a squirrel. They don't have a frame of reference for fox. A fox would be dog like to them rather than a furry little guy in need of squeaker removal. So. I call it squirrel. Squirrels are the things that sit in trees and tease. They also walk a mean tight rope and right over us and escape out of our frenzied clutches. Fox's just aren't the same. They are wily. Even the word squirrel sounds a little like an onomatopoeia. And when squirrel fox needs to be replaced (which might be very soon, squirrel is looking rough) whatever we get will probably be called squirrel as well. 

While I was flinging fox/squirrel around I was pondering deep thoughts. But I forgot most of them. So I'm writing this instead. And because it's pretty late and my girls are wound, wound, up from spending part of the evening alone, I'm working on clarity of words right now. I spent the evening at our daughter's place. Rob was asked to put together a bunk bed for a surprise for the girls. Hehehe. Yeah. It was more like a surprise for the adults. Needless to say, there is going to be a finishing party tomorrow night because, well, let's just say reality didn't meet up with the fantasy. Lots and lots of pieces. Hundreds when you count all the little screws, the tiny nuts, the wooden dowel pieces, the bottom slatted mattress rest. 

Our daughter asked us tonight how many years we had spent doing projects together. And we had to answer "all of them." We have never had the means to not DIY. And we've had a compulsion to keep DIYing. It's just what we do. On a lot of levels she has followed in our footsteps. Our daughter's disappointment over not quite surprising the kids with a perfectly done magazine style layout in their bedroom was minimal. Even the accidental popping of one of the birthday balloons didn't dampen her spirit. 

Maybe we've taught her a couple things about life while we just lived ours. Maybe a little bit about being in the moment as a reward for the grind. After all she saw my absolute love of road trips through the experience in the back seat with a front row to my meltdowns and the gritty reality of weather issues, budget issues and pain, grime and grit. Our family seems to make a whole lot of pleasant memories in the midst of grit and grime. And to think. I was always trying to make that one perfect moment when we all wore brilliant white, smiled perfectly for the camera and only spoke with love and respect toward a sibling. 

I'm pretty sure I got the better reality. I really don't look all that great in white. 


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